


Opposite Unity

by brightfuture



Category: centricide
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:14:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22266961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightfuture/pseuds/brightfuture
Summary: If you've ever wondered what a sexual relationship between Ancom and Nazi would look like, you've come to right place
Relationships: libleft/authright, libright/authleft
Comments: 89
Kudos: 371





	1. Power Structures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you've ever wondered what a sexual relationship between Ancom and Nazi would look like, you've come to right place

“Power structures are a good thing. You’re the only one who doesn’t agree," said Commie. A heated debate had erupted in the extremes’ living room, as it usually did.

“Power structures are evil.” Ancom whined

“Oh, come on, you’re a queer degenerate freak- I will not believe for a second that you are not into BDSM, which fetishises power structures,” Nazi cursed absent-mindedly. He hadn’t been too invested in this debate; it happens daily.

The room went stiff. Commie fixed his collar and shuffled uncomfortably. Ancap’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened excitedly. Nazi noticed Ancom had gone silent and his face was red. Nazi raised his eyebrows, accompanied by a stoic smirk.

“Interesting,” he noted smugly. He uncrossed his legs and leaned toward Ancom, intrigued, “so which position do you like to take? Are you a Sadist? Do you like hurting people? That would explain your constant violence… Oh, who am I kidding. You have a small stature and a smaller self-assurance, hence the constant need to loudly screech and carry a bat around. I’m sure you’re a submissive. You hate being told what to do, but I bet in the bedroom you obey every word.”

Nazi’s sadistic smile grew as he spoke. Ancom stared at the floor silently. Commie observed with hesitant curiosity, and Ancap watched attentively.

“You claim to hate authoritarians but I bet you become a subservient bootlicker in the bedroom. Have you ever thought about me or Commie like that? I’ve seen the way you look up at Commie. Do you ever fantasise about being at his will? Would you like him to reduce you to a sweaty, horny, sticky mess?”

Commie looked at Ancom cautiously, who was still staring at the floor silently. Commie gave Nazi a stern look to stop. Nazi ignored him.

“Do you ever fantasise about being at my will?” Nazi continues, “Maybe that’s why you always pick fights with me and piss me off- because you like being ripped to shreds and humiliated by me. Are you enjoying it right now? Are you getting turned on being verbally abused and humiliated by me in front of an audience- in front of Commie, who you look up to so dearly? I bet you are. I can see you fidgeting.”

Ancom stood up abruptly. No one could see his face, but as he spoke, it was clear in his voice that he had been crying.

“You’re an asshole,” was all he said. Then he stormed out of the room.

—————————————————————————————————————————

Nazi picked up his freshly brewed coffee, smelling its warm and comforting scent. Just like the old glory days in Austria. He leant against the counter, cupped his coffee in his hands, and looked out of the window. Ancom still hadn’t left his room. Teasing him earlier had been fun. Nazi smiled and sipped his coffee. He thought about how Ancom had reacted. He’d been flustered, like he’d been caught guilty. Maybe Nazi had been spot-on. Nazi chuckled. Imagine that- Ancom, hater of authority and nazis, fantasising about being overpowered by Nazi while jerking off.

And then he really did imagine that.

He imagined Ancom panting his name breathily, as he fantasised about being abused and controlled by him. And then he imagined abusing and controlling him. He imagined making Ancom cry and beg for mercy- which he’d enjoy doing in any circumstance. He imagined burying his hands in Ancom’s curly brown hair, grabbing a handful, and yanking his head back. At his mercy. On his knees. And then he imagined Ancom enjoying it. The bratty and rebellious Ancom, throwing himself at his feet.

Then Nazi felt a tug in his pants. He thought about Japan, a state the right adored. He looked up to them for their impressive imperialism back in the day, and Ancap liked them for… other reasons. He remembered something he’d read about the samurai. He got an idea.

—————————————————————————————————————

Nazi walked up to Ancom’s room on the left side of the hallway. He knocked on the door.

“Stay the fuck out” came Ancom’s shrill voice. Nazi walked in anyway.

Ancom was sitting at his desk, in a dark room lit only by his computer. He spun around on his swivel chair and reached for his bat as soon as he saw it was Nazi.

“Get the fuck out. Leave me alone.” He glared at him.

“Calm, kitty,” Nazi closed the door behind him, “I’ve come to make up. And I have a proposition.”

“I want nothing to do with you.”

“No. And I want nothing to do with you. But here we are, stuck working together. And I think it would be better for the entire team if we got along.”

“You want us to “get along” when you’re so cruel to me?”

“Indeed I am. I hate you and you hate me. But the group cannot work if we’re constantly arguing. So I suggest we get it out of our system differently- privately. For the sake of the team.”

Ancom stared silently at Nazi.

“I think we should have some fun together. _Bond_.”

Ancom looked at Nazi with cautious skepticism, “what the fuck are you suggesting?”

Nazi gave Ancom a smug smile and slowly walked over to him.

“I know you’re an idiot but you’re not that dumb.”

Nazi stopped, standing right in front of Ancom, who was sitting attentively in his chair. Ancom looked up at Nazi curiously.

“You just have to tell me if I was right. Do you want to be dominated by me?”

Ancom looked at the floor, flustered. Nazi smiled when he saw Ancom adjust his pants.

“Taking your pride is only the first step.”

He put his hand under Ancom’s chin and turned his head up to face him. Ancom was now wearing an expression he’d never seen before. Ancom’s eyes looked into Nazi’s with complete vulnerability, longing, and fearful excitement. It made his stomach do a backflip, sent shivers down his spine, and something in his chest fluttered. This was going to be more fun than he expected- ignoring the weird feeling in his chest.

Nazi leant forward.

“Do I have your consent?”

—————————————————————————————————————

Commie walked into the kitchen the next morning and saw Ancom sitting at the kitchen island. Commie was relieved, he had been worried about him all night. The type that Ancom was tended to have extreme emotions and drastic reactions. 

“Anarkiddy, how are you? I was worried when you didn’t leave your room for the rest of the day.”

“Morning, Tankie. I’m fine. We made up.”

“Are you sure? I thought Nazi went too far yesterday. I can talk to him about laying off you. I know you don’t like the state fixing your problems but-“ Commie noticed bruising around Ancom’s wrists and his heart dropped. “Did he hurt you? I saw him go towards your room last night an-”

“You think I can’t handle a nazi?”

“No, of course I know you can, but,” Commie picks up Ancom’s wrist to look at it, and notices Ancom flinch, “the verbal bullying is one thing but if he’s physically hurting you, Anarkiddy-“

Ancom pulls his arm back and stands up sorely, “I’m not a kid. I don’t need your fucking protection. I'm an autonomous adult human being and I can make my own choices without a state breathing down my ne-”

Just then Nazi swaggers into the kitchen.

“Good morning, lefties. I’m making coffee. Do you guys want any? I’ll put milk in yours, Ancom, I know you like cream,” he winked at Ancom, who rolled his eyes and left the room. Nazi chuckled and started heading for the coffee machine, but was attacked by Commie, who pinned him against the wall.

“What the fuck did you you do to Anarkiddy?” Commie sneered at Nazi, having lifted Nazi a full foot off the ground.

“Jesus Christ. I didn’t do anything to your precious degenerate queer that he didn’t want me to. Put me the fuck down, you overprotective freak.”

Commie glared at Nazi before placing him back on the ground and letting go. Nazi was slightly scared of Commie but tried not to let it show.

“And you might wanna work through what ever weird incestual protective older brother feelings you seem to have towards him,” Nazi commented before hurrying out of the kitchen.

Ancap strolls in holding his morning golden power smoothie- he’d been up since 7 watching the stock market.

“Hey, Commie. You good? You look like you’re about to explode and implode at the same time,” he said casually.

“I think Nazi might have done something to Anarkiddy. They were both acting weird and Anarkiddy had these bruises…”

“Oh, yeah, they definetely fucked last night,” Ancap comments nonchalantly, opening one of the cabinets to get a plastic straw.

“I’m sorry- what?”

“Oh yeah. Were you not in the same room as me yesterday? The dysfunctional sexual tension in that exchange was overwhelming.”

“But… Nazi… he… his bigoted views… he wouldn’t have sex with a non-binary person. One with a penis, no less.”

Ancap snorted, “The man is repressed. All homophobes are. The guy’s gay as hell. The other day he paid me to suck him off.”

“Did you do it?”

“Of course.”

“Are you gay, too?”

Ancap smiled up at Commie, “I’m pansexual if you pay me.”

Commie frowned, “That’s disgusting. Consent is not a commodity to be bought and sold.”

Ancap shrugged, “if he wants to pay me and I want to do it for the money, what the issue? Anyway, I have a business call to make. See ya.”

And with that Commie was left alone in the kitchen. He felt overwhelmed with all this new information. He had to sit down.


	2. Capcom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commie's stressed.

Ancom stood on the balcony and leant against the railing. His body ached all over. His mind was racing. He had fucked Nazi last night. A fucking fascist. And he’d liked it. Nazi had made him feel a type of ecstasy he’d never felt before. Nazi had had him on his knees- something about Nazi’s demeanour made him just want to give himself over to him. His face went red hot and his gut churned when he remembered how Nazi had made him open his pants with his mouth to suck him off. He’d been surprised at his own eagerness to devour it. He recalled how grudging he’d been when Nazi had pulled him away from it by his hair, and how his tongue had refused to unhand it, dragging along it until it was left reaching out for more. 

He’d been getting hit with these flashbacks all day. It kept taking him by surprise. Whenever he thought about how Nazi had had him last night he’d get weak: he would choke, his head would spin, and his stomach would do a backflip. 

Suddenly he felt a presence looming behind him. He stood up straight but did not turn around. 

“Hello, Ancom,” Nazi’s calm and proud voice came from behind him. 

“What do you want,” he sneered back. 

But his body responded differently. Shivers of hatred and excitement went through him. He recalled how that voice had commanded him and praised him and abused him last night. Then he remembered the sweet things it had said afterwards. How he’d been taken care of by the man the voice belonged to. And something warm and hungry spread through his chest. 

He felt a hand on his waist, and then another hand on the other side. They gripped tight and tugged him back into Nazi’s body. His breath hitched.

“I know you keep thinking about our bonding last night,” Nazi taunted. His warm breath tickled Ancom’s ear. 

Ancom couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. He was weak. He swallowed, and nodded against Nazi’s chest obediently. He was too overwhelmed by his own lust for any form of retaliation. Nazi snickered. 

“What have you become? The loud and confident anti-fascist, melting at the touch of a nazi.”

Ancom’s mind was clouded. Nazi was right, of course. What had happened to him? He should be angry, ashamed, uncomfortable, spiteful- fight back. This was a fucking nazi after all. But something about Nazi’s firm hand slowly crawling across his skin and into his pants made all that irrelevant. He wanted this man to play with him. Fuck with him. Use him. Nazi was right.

Ancom buried the back of his head into Nazi’s chest. 

“Look at you, losing all your morals to your libido,” Nazi mocked, bringing his hand into the front of Ancom’s underwear. He brought his other hand up to Ancom’s face, gripped his cheeks, and held his head up to look out over the balcony, “The world can. The world is watching you.”

Ancom’s legs could barely hold him up. He was giving himself in to the will of a nazi, and in front of the whole world. He should feel ashamed or scared- he did. But it only made it better. It only made him crave it more.

———————————————————————————

Commie had still not recovered from that morning’s revelations by the time the gang was playing monopoly that afternoon. It was one of the favourites of the household, though they could never agree on the rules- Ancom always refused the government “hand-outs”, Ancap would never pay the “taxes”, Nazi would throw the others in jail for rules he’d make up, and Commie would regularly redistribute the properties. 

But this time Commie was distracted. What Ancap had told him that morning kept repeating in his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about Ancom’s bruises. They… So violently? Why was Ancom bruised? Why would Ancom want Nazi to do that to him? Did Ancom want Nazi to do that to him? 

Commie watched Ancom complain about having to pay rent on Ancap’s property, wailing about how landlords were money-sucking leaches. Ancom was sitting with both legs tucked under him, with his bat resting against the chair. His hood was down and Commie could see marks on his neck, poking out of his hoodie. Commie watched Ancom’s lips as he preached. Those lips… had they kissed… Nazi’s? Commie couldn’t bare to think it. It made no sense. What else had those lips done? Those marks… what had Nazi’s lips done? Where on Ancom’s body had they been?

“You don’t believe in landlords and you don’t believe in the state,” Nazi interrupted remotely, “so, who is going to distribute housing in your idea?”

Nazi. The smug fucker. What had he done with small and innocent Ancom? What had he done to small and innocent Ancom? 

“Isn’t that right, Commie? That’s what the state is for?” Nazi gave Commie a shit-eating grin, expecting Commie’s approval. Commie just glared back at him. Nazi was taken aback and gave Commie a confused look. Ancom turned to Commie and his doe eyes looked into Commie’s.

“Are you okay, Tankie?” He asked, “you look kind of out of it.”

Commie didn’t know how to respond. He just gave Ancom a sad look. He imagined Ancom looking up at Nazi with those same eyes. That same sweet, wide-eyed, adoring, expression being directed at the fucking fascist. Commie’s mind just couldn’t put it together- why?

Ancap answers over his pile of money, “Commie can’t grasp th-” 

“Silence, kulak,” Commie’s voice boomed. He did not mean to erupt so loudly. Ancap flinched, raised his eyebrows, and backed down, returning to the money he was counting- wait, that was real money. Where did he get the real money from?

“Ancap,” Commie inquired in a calmer tone, “where did you get the real money and why do you have it?”

“We’ve been playing for real money,” Ancap answered, as if this was information he was already meant to know. The greedy capitalist had blown Nazi. Was Commie the only one in the house that hadn’t screwed the manwhore? 

“By the way, I don’t actually have any money- I spent it all on drugs- so thanks for covering for me, Tankie,” Ancom beamed up at Commie. It took a second for Commie to put together. Ancom expected him to pay for him? Why couldn’t he just get his precious Nazi to do it? Ancom would squeal and squawk about the intrusiveness and unjust hierarchy of leftist state regimes, yet he would willingly let a murderous authoritarian ideology of hatred and oppression corrupt him?

“This morning you told me to leave you alone and now you want me to take care of you? Do you want the state’s help or not?” Commie snapped back, “you’re a hypocrite with unstable morals who goes against everything he believes in whenever it’s convenient. Make up your fucking mind and stick to it.” 

Ancom’s face sunk and his big eyes welled up. His eyebrows furrowed and his lip quivered. Yeah, me too, Commie thought. He stood up and left the room without saying another word. 

———————————————————

Commie was sat on the steps to the house, resting his elbows on his knees, looking out. Ancap walked out and sat down next to him. He was worried about Commie. He may have been a greedy, profit-obsessed, money-hungry ephebophile with no regard for human life or the well-being of others, but he wasn’t a sociopath. 

“You’re taking this a lot harder than I expected,” Ancap started. He wouldn’t have told Commie if he’d known it would upset him so much. He would never have imagined that it would. He genuinely didn’t understand where the problem lay. He had never had an understanding for other humans and their connections to and care for each other. Human rights had never been anything but a burden to him. But he never wanted to intentionally hurt someone without a reason. 

“I just don’t understand it. Why would they do something like that?” Commie said. 

“Yeah, I don’t understand much about why people do the things they do. Money is the only reasonable motivator in my opinion.”

Commie’s face twists, “do you think he did it for money?”

“Does that sound like Ancom to you?” 

“No… but then why?”

Ancap shrugged, “maybe he just wanted to be fucked like a rag doll by Nazi.”

“But I don’t understand… why…”

“Why do you need to understand? Why do you care?”

“Because it doesn’t make any sense?

“It makes as much sense to me as everything else people do that isn’t economic. Unless it somehow affects you, I don’t see why you would care.”

Commie didn’t answer. His face contorted like he was deep in thought. Ancap didn’t like seeing the bold and boastful Commie like this. He didn’t understand why he was sad, but he wanted to cheer him up. He thought about how he usually cheered himself up. 

“Do you want me to lend you one of my child brides?” He asked Commie. Commie looked at him with a disdainful disbelief. 

“That’s disgusting! They’re far too young to consent!”

“I know. That’s why I got their parents’ consent.”

Commie shook his head, stood up, and walked back inside, leaving Ancap on the steps alone. So much for trying to help a friend.


	3. Free Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the Boyz  
> Commie = pure angst  
> Ancom = horny puppy  
> Nazi = power tripping  
> Ancap = best boy

Ancap was concerned for Commie. He hadn’t joined the others for dinner. Ancom had been acting very weird at the dinner table, constantly shifting and blushing uncomfortably. Nazi had been sitting next to him with an evil smile on his face and one of his hands under the table. Ancap wasn’t stupid, he knew what Nazi was doing under the table, though he figured the other two probably thought they were being sneaky. Ancap hadn’t consented to be part of whatever sexual exhibitionism the other two were doing, but he didn’t feel like starting a stir, so he left as soon as possible, using the excuse that he was bringing Commie some dinner.

Commie would probably be proud, Ancap smiled to himself, walking to Commie’s room. What a socialist notion, helping others. Ancap chuckled to himself. He knocked on Commie’s door with his foot because his hands were carrying two plates. It wasn’t like Commie to skip dinner: he was usually the one who insisted they all cook, eat, and clean together like true comrades.

“Who is it?” asked Commie’s voice.

“The kulak,” Ancap mocked. There was no answer so Ancap lift up one foot up to the doorknob and opened the door. He walked in, closed the door with his back, and held up the plates, “dinner for comrades.”

He walked up to Commie, who was sat at his desk, and handed him one of the plates.

Commie gave him a small smile as he took it, “thank you.”

Ancap leaned his ass against the desk and started eating. Commie fiddled with his food.

“Have you figured it out, yet?” Ancap asked.

“Figured what out?”

“I don’t know. Whatever had you so confused and sad.”

“Oh. No.”

“Can I ask you why it matters so much to you that they fucked? I mean, I sucked Nazi off too, it was no big deal.” Ancap said through a mouth full of food.

“Yeah, why did you do that?”

Ancap shrugged, “I don’t know. He was complaining about having a dry spell since we started the centricide, and I offered to help him. For money, of course. A consensual, positive transaction.”

Ancap smiled to himself. Nothing was more satisfying to him than consensual, positive, business transactions. Then he had an idea.

“Hey! I could help you, too!”

Commie gave him a concerned look.

“I could do the same for you!”

“You want me to pay you for oral sex?”

“All sex! It could help you get your mind off Ancom and Nazi!”

“I’m not going to pay you for sex. Buying consent from a selfish capitalist pig is not going make me feel better.”

Ancap put his plate down on the table and got down on his knees. He spread open Commie’s legs and looked up to find Commie observing him with silent defeat.

“I’ll give you a free trial. On me. Friendly discount. Just to try it. Eh?”

Commie shut his legs violently and Ancap fell back.

“No. Thank you for bringing me dinner but I don’t want anything else. Please get out,” Commie said, standing up stiffly.

Ancap shrugged and got up, taking his own dinner as he left the room. Communists just hate pleasure out of principle.

—————————————————————

Ancom was observing himself in his mirror. He pulled down his hoodie and tried every angle of his neck, which was covered in malicious hickeys from Nazi. He pulled up his sleeves; his wrists had rope burns. He pulled up his pant legs; so did his ankles. He lift up his hoodie and turned around, checking his back in the mirror, which was covered in red marks. Then he pulled off his hoodie completely. His biceps, small as they may be, were covered in bruises from where Nazi had grabbed him.

He wondered if Nazi was going to come in tonight. He’d been fucking with him all day. Ancom hated how helpless he was to Nazi’s playing. It was like all his pride and dignity flew out the window when it came to Nazi. He bit his lip sadly. Commie had been right. He went against everything he believed in when it was convenient. Now that he thought about it, Commie had been kind of cold to him today. He hadn’t really noticed- he’d been distracted by Nazi’s antics all day. Did Commie know? Unexpectedly, his heart sank into his gut. What would he do if Commie knew about what he had done with Nazi? What Nazi had done to him? What Ancom wanted Nazi to do to him?

There was a knock on the door which caused Ancom to jump. For a second he feared it was Commie, but then Nazi came marching in. He looked Ancom up and down and smirked when he saw that he was shirtless.

“Someone was ready for my company.”

“I wasn’t- I- I was looking at the bruises you left on me yesterday,” Ancom defended himself.

Nazi raised his eyebrows unimpressed and walked behind Ancom, “Admiring my work.”

In the mirror Ancom could see how much taller than him Nazi is. He observed the tableau. There, small and scrawny, half-naked and bruised, stood he, and behind him, the man who he belonged to. When Nazi spoke it was clear he was thinking the same thing.

“I’ve marked my property well,” Nazi said proudly. He lift up one of Ancom’s arms and examined it in the mirror. Ancom’s arm was sore. He felt like a marionette doll as Nazi inspected his work in the mirror. He felt ashamed and embarrassed, on display like that. “Don’t you agree?”

He didn't answer but he felt blood rush to his face and his crotch. He watched his face go bright red in the mirror, and saw Nazi grin smugly.

“Don’t be ashamed,” Nazi teased. He looked into Ancom’s eyes in the mirror, bent down close to Ancom’s ear and whispered, “I know you’re weak. I know you’re weak to your own lewdness and I know you’re weak to my manipulation.”

Ancom was burning up. In the mirror he could see Nazi raise his hands, and then he felt Nazi’s hands wrap around his neck. Vulnerable. At Nazi’s complete control.

“I’m sure you’d love a round two, tonight. After all my torment today; which you seemed to thoroughly enjoy.”

A weak, “uhmuhm,” was all Ancom could muster through his fluster.

“You need to be clear with me, kitty.”

“Y-yes… I want more,” Ancom purred.

“You want me?”

“I want you.”

“To do what?”

…

“To do what, kitty?”

“Ruin me.”

Nazi leered, a mischievous smile spread across his face.

“Is that so?”

Nazi gave Ancom three soft kisses down his neck, fixed himself in the mirror, and left the room. Left the room. Ancom was left, turned on and desperate for Nazi’s touch, alone in his room.

And sure he was furious because he was more turned on than ever. But mostly something in his chest ached. Sure he wanted to be fucked by Nazi, but mostly he’d wanted to spend the night with him. Sure his body longed for Nazi, but his heart did too.

———————————————————————

“You’re such a tease,” Ancom whimpered across the living room table. Nazi felt alive; he was holding a balloon between two hands, and was adding increasing pressure to it, threatening to pop it. It was fun having Ancom, the whiny brat, at his ruth. Fun like last night when he’d left the degenerate quivering and pleading, and fun like now, when the peevish perverted child was on the verge of tears because of a balloon. 

“Either pop it or don’t pop it, you’re triggering my anxiety,” Ancom cried. Nazi rolled his eyes. He raised his eyebrows at Ancom, will he or won’t he? The trivial terror on Ancom’s face was delicious.

Commie, who’d been sat unimpressed on the couch, stood up, stormed over to the table, grabbed the ballon, and popped it in his bear hands instantly. Ancom jumped and Nazi was taken by surprise. It was strangely exhilarating.

“There,” he boomed. The immense power coming from Commie was titillating. Commie sat down aggressively in one of the chairs around the table.

Ancap strolled into the living room, looking into his phone.

Distractedly, he mused, “What do you guys think about getting a sex slave? I think it would make a nice addition to the living room, having someone handcuffed to the wall.”

Ancom started shaking from rage, “You want to keep a sex slave? You want to take away someone’s rights and rape them? What’s wrong with you, you rapist?”

Ancap rolls his eyes, “It’s just a name, Ancom. We’d pay them. It would be consensual.”

“It’s still dehumanising. It would be an unjust power structure where the whole job would be to be sexually harassed by their employer.”

Nazi spotted an opportunity. Strategically, he leaned forward at Ancom and eyed him wisely.

“I don’t know, Ancom. You don’t think someone might enjoy being used and abused, chained up as someone’s toy? You can’t… put yourself in that situation?”

Nazi adored watching Ancom squirm.

“If you think sex work is unjust, we could just have someone do it voluntarily. Someone who enjoys being played with and humiliated regularly, especially in the presence of others. Can you think of anyone? Because my impression from last ni-”

Nazi was cut off by the sudden loud screech of a chair on the floor as Commie stood up abruptly and charged out of the room. Strange. Before he could contemplate more his thoughts were cut off by Ancap’s fussing.

“No. Not volunteer. We can’t accept anything for free, how does that stimulate the economy? Why won’t you let me pay a sex worker for their time? Where’s Commie gone? He’d agree with me, power to the workers, right?”

————————————————————————-

Commie was pacing around his room. He was overwhelmed. He needed a distraction. Ancap’s offer kept going through his head. Free trial, he’d said. Sex should not be a commodity- nothing social should be. Free trial. He wouldn’t be paying. He wouldn’t, technically, be buying anything. It was more like a friend helping out another friend, right? Commie looked out his window. Ancom betrays him with Nazi, so he will betray him with Ancap? Could he do such a thing with Ancap? Would he do such a thing with Ancap? Would he want to?

He tried to think of Ancap like that. He wasn’t an unattractive man. Lewd, loud, and lucrative. He had a certain care-free swagger to him that no one else in the house possessed, that was unquestionably respectable.

Dear God, was he really this desperate? Free trial. Might just give it a try. Always have to try something before you judge it, right? That’s what he always said about dismissing communism with modern infrastructure. Fuck this. Fuck it.

He crossed the hallway to Ancap’s room on the right side. He reached out to knock but Ancap opened before he could.

“I can hear your angsty stomping from a mile away,” Ancap commented, letting Commie in. Commie closed the door behind him and leant against it uncomfortably. Ancap beamed at him, “you here to take me up on my offer?”

“I have considered it.”

Ancap smiled again and started undressing. He placed his fedora on his desk and slipped off his blazer. He started loosening his tie.

“No,” Commie’s voice stopped him, to his own surprise, “keep that on.”

“Okay,” Ancap raised his eyebrows. He started unbuttoning his shirt. Commie watched Ancap’s torso slowly emerge. The man was toned. He could respect that. The shirt came off and hit the ground.

“Are you going to do anything-”

Commie started inching closer to Ancap.

“-or are you just going to watch me undress?”

He stood in front of Ancap and peered down.

“Because whichever you like better is okay…”

Ancap looked up into Commie’s eyes.

“ …with me but you should let me know…”

Commie grabbed Ancap’s tie and wrapped it around his hand.

“…for next time…”

He pulled Ancap close from the tie.

“so I can… decide…”

Ancap was breathing heavily.

“…on the pri-“

Commie pushes Ancap down on all four, tugging his head up with the tie. Ancap’s eyes were alive with fire; an excited smile awaited instructions. Commie used the tie as a leash, pulling Ancap closer. Ancap crawled towards him, tongue out, like a dog. Commie silently lift up one foot and used it to gently push the back of Ancap’s head down towards his other boot. He watched as Ancap’s head slowly sunk down to kiss it. Commie couldn’t help but feel a thrill travel through him. The back of Ancap’s head moved as he, Commie presumed, made out with his boot. This was satisfying to the authoritarian.

He lightly kicked up Ancap’s head using that foot. He pulled Ancap’s head back up with the tie-leash. Drool was dripping from his lips and his eyes were sparkling. Commie squatted down to be head level with Ancap. Surely, Commie thought, no capitalist is this enthusiastic about providing a free trial. If he was being paid, he might understand why the capitalist would be so invested. Maybe the money is a cover. Ancap goes day in and day out talking about the flow of money and healthy economies but maybe money isn’t the primary motivator here. Maybe he enjoys being used for others’ pleasure and justifies it by saying it’s for the money.

He looked into Ancap’s eager eyes and thought. Ancap was much smaller than him. Commie had an idea. He stood up while holding the collar of the tie, taking Ancap up with him. Commie places his hands on Ancap’s hips.

“I don’t think you do this just for the money. I think you like this kind of treatment. I think you’d secretly love to be the living room sex slave.”

“I’m no-.” Commie lifted Ancap up before he could retaliate and threw him onto the bed.

“Fuck,” Ancap said breathlessly when he landed. Commie pulled off his own blazer and crawled onto the bed over Ancap, whose eyes were wide and crazed.

“Well?” Commie double checked.

Ancap just nodded vigorously, “yes.. yes, you’re absolutely right. Just keep doing stuff like that, I beg.”

Commie grinned slyly. This was a good idea. Ancom and Nazi were the last people on his mind right now.


	4. I overthink when I'm high

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We each experience events differently.

Ancom and Nazi arrived back at the house from their activities that evening at the same time. Ancom had been at an antifa meeting and Nazi had been at a… barbecue. Ancom tried to unlock the door. Struggled would be a better word. The queer could barely mash his key against the vague area around the keyhole. Ancom was very clearly very high. Nazi scoffed. All they ever did at those meetings was drugs. Useless degenerates.

“Oh hi, Nazi,” Ancom mumbled absentmindedly, leaning on the door frame to let Nazi unlock the door. He giggled, “You look blue. Like visually, you’re bright blue.”

Ancom filled him with so much disgust it felt like he was boiling over.

“Jesus christ what the fuck are you on?” He scolded.

“LSD, some ecstasy, a little bit of coke, and some shrooms.”

“Degenerate,” Nazi muttered as he let the two of them in. Ancom stumbled in behind him. Nazi started heading towards his room when Ancom’s soft voice came from behind him.

“Can I come with you?” He said sheepishly.

Nazi stopped and spun around on his heel, “what?”

“Can I come with you? To your room?”

What the hell did this brat want now? Why did he want to bother him, like an annoying little brother? Nazi didn’t know what to think.

“Uh. Sure.”

He turned back around and strode to his room, Ancom stumbling behind him.

In his room, he stood, looking out of the window, hands behind his back. Behind him, Ancom flopped down on his bed. Nazi scowled and turned to give that punk a piec- Ancom looked so cute, spread out on his back, staring at the ceiling in awe. His eyes were wide and amazed. Nazi’s anger melted.

“Nazi. Can you please come over here?” He said quietly.

Nazi sighed. Ancom, with all his misplaced anger and aggression, was like a helpless lamb. Soft and weak in a way you just had to protect. He walked up to the bed, and lay down in it next to the lamb. Ancom turned his head so they were making eye contact. His pupils were so dilated they looked black. Baby lamb. He mumbled something Nazi couldn’t hear.

“What?!”

Ancom chuckled and rubbed his eyes. With his eyes still closed and playing with his own hair he said

“Can we make love?”

What kind of degeneracy- he hoped for the sake of the wellbeing of the brat and the integrity of their race that Ancom did not regularly embark on sexual expeditions while high on an orgy of drugs.

“Absolutely not. You’re so high you’re basically dead and I get that I’m an evil facist or whatever just because I think people should be divided into groups and that some groups are factually superior, but I'm not going to take advantage of someone like that. I might be a racist but I’m not a rapist.”

Ancom chuckles again.

“Mm, no- Love. Make it.”

Make love? Wait, he didn’t mean intercourse- he wouldn’t have said it that way. Plus, what he and the queer did was nowhere near close to making love. Making hate. Taking control. Spreading pain.

“Why did you leave me alone the other night?” Ancom changes subject.

“To fuck with you. Thought it would be fun, knowing how much power I have over you.” Nazi smiled to himself. Ah, complete power over others was what made life worth it. Then he heared Ancom crying next to him. “Oh my god, Ancom, what the fuck?”

Ancom sobbed, “I felt so let down. I- I don’t know. I’m really turned on by you but like really turned on by you like I want to give myself over to you completely have me take me do whatever you want with me fuck my holes and my morals.”

And suddenly Nazi was on a rollercoaster, his heart flying out the top of his head, like on a drop. His muscles gave out- his breath had been stolen from him by the degenerate lamb. Nazi wanted and liked power, yes, but to have someone- especially someone that small, vulnerable, and bratty- profess to giving themselves over like that. It set Nazi on fire.

“And I did really want you to ruin me, fuck with me, fuck me, hurt me, mark me. I do and- and I do. I don’t know what the fuck I have become. But I know now, that night. I missed you. More than anything. I wanted to spend the night with you. I felt so lonely without you.”

Suddenly something took over Nazi. The sweet, crying kid next to him made something in his heart want to reach out for him and shower him in love. Nazi found himself lunging forward to press his lips on Ancom's. And his heart burst.

——————

Keys. Mm, fuck/ keys- the- the door. It wouldn’t wor- wHY WOULN*T IT FIT.Open borders.

A domineering presence arrived. It was Nazi.

“Oh, hi, Nazi,” Ancom greeted the dark blue figure, moving to the side for the monarch. The man looked autocratic, the way he unlocked the door. Ancom leaned on the door frame and observed the dark blue figure turn bright blue. It was Nazi :D after all. He was bright, cartoon like, colourful- he made Ancom so happy to see. Flavour burst from Ancom’s centre when he saw him.

“You look blue. Like visually, you’re bright blue.”

Nazi glared at him and Ancom’s heart shattered just a little bit.

“Jesus christ what the fuck are you on?” He sneered.

“LSD, some ecstasy, a little bit of coke, and some shrooms,” Ancom reminisced. It had been a productive meeting.

Ancom couldn’t hear what Nazi said under his breath as they entered. Nazi started to advance towards his bedroom and Ancom felt like everything was running away from him the hallway was so long He needed Nazi wait oh fuck wait-

“Can I come with you?” he tried.

Nazi stopped and spun around on his heel, “what?”

“Can I come with you? To you room?”

Ancom could hear his heart beating In his scull ow it was so loud-

“Uh. Sure.”

Relief.H e followd after Nazi like a puppy to his room...

In his room there was a bed oh a bed oh yes

Ancom let himself fall into the bed. It engulfed him like an ocean. He admired the ceiling, it was alive, breathing, but not like breathing. Like pili on a bacteria at the bottom of the ocean. He was at the bottom of the ocean too. But the bottom of the ocean was cold and lonely.

“Nazi. Can you please come over here?” He heard his voice pray.

It felt like forever until Nazi’s presence joined him on the bed. His heavy weight sunk the both of them further down into the mud. Ancom turned to look at the- rather beautiful- man. The man made his soul wobble.

“Can we make love?” he asked the void.

“What?!"

Ancom chuckled and rubbed his eyes. He closed his eyes and played with his hair, like he wanted Nazi to. Nazi, in his mind, was like a kaleidoscope. Broken shards of coloured glass but it made a pretty pattern. It made sense. Broken shards of glass he wanted to pierce himself with.

“Can we make love?”

“Absolutely not. You’re so high you’re basically dead and I get that I’m an evil facist or whatever just because I think people should be divided into groups and that some groups are factually superior, but I'm not going to take advantage of someone like that. I might be a racist but I’m not a rapist.” He heard Nazi’s stern voice defend. That was funny. Silly serious man. He didn’t understand.

“Mm, no- Love. Make it.”

He wanted Nazi’s love. Embrace. Love. Why did he keep it from him?

“Why did you leave me alone the other night?” Ancom plead.

“To fuck with you. Thought it would be fun, knowing how much power I have over you.”

Ancom wanted him to-… he didn’t care what he did, he just wanted this man’s attention and he couldn’t explain it. What was wrong with him? This man was a monster- a murderer- a genocidal bigoted threat to the well-being of minorities- and he wanted to be held by him. He’d felt so abandoned by him that night, like a puppy kicked out in the rain. Or the many individuals that would be left out by the man’s worldview. He could’t hold back the shameful lonely conflict anymore, it waged war in his eyes.

“Oh my god, Ancom, what the fuck?”

“I felt so let down. I- I don’t know. I’m really turned on by you but like really turned on by you like I want to give myself over to you completely have me take me do whatever you want with me fuck my holes and my morals. And I did really want you to ruin me, fuck with me, fuck me, hurt me, mark me. I do and- and I do. I don’t know what the fuck I have become. But I know now, that night. I missed you. More than anything. I wanted to spend the night with you. I felt so lonely without you-“

And suddenly Nazi’s lips were on his. But it wasn’t like the harsh brutal bites he was used to. It was a love kiss.


	5. don't go wasting your emotion, lay all your love on me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ancap takes advantage of the oppunity opportunity

Nazi had woken up hours ago but the drugged up kid hadn’t yet, so Nazi hadn’t left the bed. When he’d woken up he’d been intertwined with Ancom. And, like when a cat falls asleep on your lap and you don’t move, so could Nazi not dare to disturb the sleeping anarchist. As he watched the brat sleep, he understood why Commie acted so overprotective. Ancom was like a young chihuahua, barking loudly, aggressively, and confidently at the bigger, older ideologies. Like a toddler, throwing a fit because someone said the n-word. His heart was in the right place, he supposed.

Nazi didn’t hate people. Even minorities and degenerates. He liked people, and he loved his own people. That’s why he cared so much about the corrosion of his culture. And all cultures. He just wished other cultures would leave his culture alone. Ancom always went on about cultural appropriation and Nazi agreed with it in theory. Nazi didn’t understand why it was okay for minorities to appropriate white culture, when everything else was off limits for white people.

He agreed with Ancom’s anti-imperialist notions. Nazi also thought white countries should stay out of the countries. Countries shouldn’t mingle. Cultures shouldn’t mingle. In fact, one of the many things he agreed with Commie on was how in most communist states everything is nationalised to the point of it becoming a facist state. He had respect for the red Russian in that regard.

The green ideology purred in his arms. He didn’t want to be controlled either. Ancom just didn’t see that it wasn’t the state controlling him, it was (((them))).

He looked so peaceful while he was asleep. Typical, for a brat, to be sweet as an angel when he’s asleep, even though he’s unbearable while he’s awake. Ancom was cute without the shrill and whiny personality. Nazi lightly ruffled Ancom’s heart and inched closer to leave a light kiss on his forehead.

———————————

Ancap was itching for more. The way Commie had thrown him around like a bean bag that night had made him feel alive. Ironically, being treated like sub-human made him feel human. Maybe he should tell Nazi that he actually belongs to a minority.

Ancap leaned his head into his hand as he watched Commie do the dishes from the kitchen island. Commie, in typical annoying authleft fashion, insisted the housework be divided equally. Everyone refused to do his share if he paid them, and Commie reprimanded him when he tried to buy a slave or even just a servant, so Ancap offered to pay for all the bills instead of doing any of the household chores.

Mmm, reprimanded. Commie had rolled up his sleeves and Ancap watched his muscular forearms scrub hard to lather up the dirty dishes. The communist was balls-to-the-wall insane, delusional with a bizarre savior-of-the-masses messiah complex, but dear god if he didn’t know how to fuck. Commie was neurotic, sure, but he was attentive. He’d uncovered something about Ancap that night that he, himself, hadn’t known, real Freudian. Oh man, Commie could make so much money if he became a therapist. But he’d probably just start giving away his time and service for free.

“I know you’re watching me,” the deep Russian accent came from behind the ushanka.

Ancap sat up and fixed himself, “I was not.”

Commie let out a chuckle and put down the dish he’d been working on. He turned around and approached Ancap. He leaned his elbows on the island and water dripped from his soapy hands into a small puddle. Commie’s unforgiving gaze stared right into Ancap, and was accompanied with a smirk. Smug bastard knew exactly how much power he had over him.

Commie lifted a hand up and grabbed Ancap’s face by the cheeks, squeezing hard, pulling him closer. Ancap’s heart did a somersault and his pants were getting tighter. Breathing came hard suddenly and he was sick with hope and anticipation. He didn’t know what kind of gross submissive expression he was wearing and he was glad he couldn’t see it. How humiliating. But Ancap had never been one to go against his own urges. That was the beauty of anarcho-capitalism; nobody could stop him.

Commie came close, and, for a moment, a small part of Ancap hoped for a soft kiss, but then he felt a sting of pain and a shiver of pleasure as Commie chomped down on his bottom lip. No kiss at all, just a very angry chomp. Ancap let out a noise instinctively and even he couldn’t tell if it was a noise of pain or of pleasure.

Commie let go and lightly patted one of Ancap’s cheeks, “thank you for the other night. It feels good to take my anger out on someone.”

Ancap rubbed his face. It hurt and his lip was throbbing.

“Spoken like a true commie,” he sneered, but his brain had put together that maybe this meant he could get more. He changed his tone, “my understanding is that you enjoyed the free trial. So how about you employ my full services?”

“I am not paying you for sex, Ancap,” Commie boomed as he turned back to the dished.

“Oh come on, I know you like it.“

“So do you. If you want more why not just agree to more without commodifying something so crucial to comfort as consent you capitalist pig.”

Ancap’s head stirred. He didn’t understand. Transaction. It was supposed to be a transaction. He was providing a service, he should get paid. Fair wage for fair work. Commie usually agreed with him at least on that front. Commie wanted the service so why wouldn’t he just buy it from him. Ancap wanted to sell himself to him.

“You’re making things unnecessarily compli-“ Commie’s continuation was cut off by Ancom’s small voice coming from the hallway.

“-don’t know if I believe you,” it said, growing louder, coming closer, “you really mean I didn’t do or say anything weird last night?”

Nazi and Ancom came around the corner.

“Trust me, if you did I’d hold it over you forever,” Nazi replied.

Ancom loosely wore a navy blue uniform jacket resting on his shoulders. The two looked freshly woken up. It was noon. People wonder why they’re poor and blame it on the perfectly functional system of capitalism when really it’s their laziness, refusing to wake up early and grind.

Commie dropped the plate he was washing into the sink when he saw the two enter.

“Anarkiddy, what the fuck are you wearing?”

“Oh, morning Tankie. It’s Nazi’s, he lent it to me.”

“That’s an SS jacket.”

“Oh what?”, Ancom checked the sleeve and found the bright red decorated armband. “oh shit you’re right.”

He looked up at Nazi questioningly.

“What the fuck, Nazi?"

But he didn’t take the jacked off.

Nazi shrugged, “you asked me for a jacket.”

“No, you offered me a jacket.”

“Perhaps,” Nazi simply said, walking up to the coffee machine.

“Why are you wearing it?” Commie asked.

“I came home high as balls last night and Nazi let me crash in his room apparently.”

Commie glared murder at Nazi. Ancap didn’t bother trying to wonder about whatever he was supposedly accusing Nazi of. Nazi caught the glare, too. He leant calmly against the kitchen counter and cupped his coffee.

“What do you think I did to him, Commie?” Nazi asked haughtily.

Commie didn’t answer, just kept glaring at him.

“Tankie?” Ancom inquired up at Commie with big eyes. Commie looked down at Ancom with a fatherly disappointment. Something was about to happen, Ancap knew.

“You hate this man. You hate everything he stands for. You hate everything that stupid fucking uniform jacket that you’re wearing like a fucking boyfriend shirt stands for. So why are you wearing it? Why are you crashing in his room?” Commie’s voice got louder and more aggressive. Commie is really scary when he’s angry. Really scary and really hot. Commie’s already low voice gets lower somehow and his accent gets thicker. Ancap found himself wishing he was on the receiving end of Commie’s anger. ‘It feels good to take my anger out on someone’ Commie had said.

Nazi was watching Commie with cautious concern. Ancom’s eyes somehow grew even wider and his lip started quivering.

Ancom’s scared voiced lightly murmured, “I felt safe… with him.”

A vein Ancap had never noticed before started making itself really present on Commie’s forehead.

“You feel safe. With an authoritarian who wants to conserve everything you want to destroy. You feel safe. With the person you supposedly hate the most. You feel safe. To the point. Where you can come out sore and covered in bruises. And still choose to go into his room while at your most vulnerable?”

Slight offence started to show itself on Nazi’s silhouette. Tears were welling up in Ancom’s eyes.

“Commie-“ Nazi said sternly. Ancap noticed Nazi’s hand subtly slither out to Ancom, lightly nipping his jacket.

“I just don’t understand you, Ancom. I knew you were a dreamer, an idealist, with your little fantasies of a communist anarchy. But I thought you at least had reason. Logic. Coherency. Some sort of personal code you stick to. But you stop dedicating yourself to destroying facism the moment one-... as soon as you-... just for-... your fucking libido!”

Commie yelled that last bit. Ancom flinched, and instinctively curled into Nazi’s chest. Commie looked a little surprised at his own aggression. He took a breath, composed himself, and readjusted his clothes.

“I apologise for my tone,” he said diplomatically, then stormed out of the room.

Ancap had never wanted Commie to step on him more.

He followed Commie to his room. Commie noticed this. He stopped in front of his door, hand on the handle, and looked at Ancap with exhausted acceptance. The two stood alone in the hallway. Ancap just kept watching Commie. Commie sighed and nodded, nicking his head towards the room.

Fuck yeah.

Ancap followed Commie into his room, and closed the door behind him. Commie stood with his back to him, looking out of the window, with his hands in his pocket.

“Need someone to take your anger out on?” Ancap cajoled confidently, hiding his extreme excitement.

“Not for money, no.”

“Ugh, come on, Commie. You need it, I can tell.”

“You seem to need it, too, Ancap,” Commie turned around and leaned against his own desk.

“I want to provide a service to you, Commie.”

“You want to give yourself to me.”

“I want to sell myself to you, yes,” whoo boy that sentence took more balance out of his legs than he expected.

“I will not buy you. But I do want you.”

Transaction. It had to be a transaction. 

“Fine. But consider it a favour. And you’ll do me a favour back. A gift.”

Commie contemplated.

“Fine.”

And then Commie attacked him, pouncing at him from the other side of the room and tackling Ancap against the door, mushing his lips against his, stealing his breath. Transaction. Ancap was happy. Commie could throw him around as much as he wanted, Ancap still held the power.

Suddenly Commie grabbed Ancap’s shoulders and flung him around, sending Ancap flying to ground. He landed on his back, catching himself with his elbows. Commie marched heavily towards him. He looked up at Commie, who loomed above him. Commie glared back. He lift up one boot, placed it on Ancap’s chest, and slowly pushed Ancap down until he was flat on the ground. This felt right. It felt correct. He was exactly where Comme wanted him to be and that was exactly where Ancap wanted to be.


	6. Just a piece of cake

Nazi was in the kitchen making himself and the house some Sachertorte. He believed the kitchen was the woman’s place, but the house had no woman, and he thought a man should have the right to treat himself every once in a while. He pulled the warm fresh cake out of the oven with his gloves, and closed the oven with his knee. He placed the cake proudly on the kitchen island. The kitchen was filled with a comforting warm chocolate scent. He’d made enough for the house to share. He liked sharing. With his own. And, though unlikely, the extremists had become his own, especially that… degenerate queer Ancom. An unlikely family- though maybe a little bit of an incestuous one given his own activities with both of the anarchists.

Excluding the, uh, incestuous behaviour, it was the perfect nuclear family. That made Nazi happy. It was as things should be. The two anarchists were, of course, the children. Commie, with his authoritative power and disciplinary demeanour, was clearly the father. That would make…

Nazi was stood in the kitchen, covered in flour and cacao, wearing an apron and oven gloves, freshly baked cake on the table.

Oh lord. He was the mother.

His face went flaming hot. They _would_ make a good couple. He and Commie had a lot more in common than the communist wanted to admit. They both wanted to overthrow the oppressors and use the state to ensure well being and unity amongst their people…

He missed Commie. The other authoritarian had started being so cold to him, lately. It hurt more than Nazi wanted to admit. He knew Commie must have caught on about his… activities with Ancom at this point. Which must have been causing the outbursts. He didn’t enjoy the rift between him and Commie. He didn’t _need_ Commie, but it was nice to have another statist by his side. He missed Commie.

——————————————————

A firm and orderly knock came from Commie’s door. He placed the copy of Das Kapital he’d been reading on his desk.

“Come in.”

The door opened and there stood Nazi, wearing an apron and covered in ingredients, holding a slice of brown cake. So domestic. It didn’t match his usual above-thou attitude. It was almost endearing. The other auth had nothing on him. All he did was parade around as powerful. Commie was true power. Nazi could deny it all he wanted, they both knew he was in charge. Nazi entered sheepishly.

“What do you want?” Commie snarled. He had no particular interest in talking to Nazi at the moment.

“Hello, Commie. I believe I have noticed some… tension coming from you lately.”

Commie scoffed. So the fury manifesting from his confusion had managed to make it through the white supremacist’s thick skull.

“I, uh, I made some cake. For the house. Thought I’d bring you a piece. We need to be on the same page, as a team, if we want to-“

“What exactly is it you do with Anarkiddy?”

Nazi stopped talking and just gave him a look of silent, perplexed awe, no answers.

“What is it you’ve been doing with him that has led to this sudden… bonding of the two of you?”

He watched Nazi writhe uncomfortably.

“We…” was all the fascist said before clearing his throat. Commie watched the man’s eyes trail around the room, avoiding his own and avoiding the question.

“Say it.”

“We… we have… intercourse.”

Commie slammed his fist down on the table, causing Nazi to jump. He was getting tired of the swine’s tentative foolishness.

“But what is it you’re doing that’s leaving him so bruised?” His voice came out rougher than he expected.

“Some people get pleasure out of pain,” Nazi muttered hesitantly with a tone Commie couldn’t decipher of either pride or shame.

He was correct though, of course, Commie knew that all too well from his own activities with Ancap. Ancap seemed to experience overwhelming pleasure from being mistreated.

“And Ancom…” Commie couldn’t bring himself to ask. He couldn’t bare the thought of Ancom giving himself over to Nazi the way Ancap gave himself over to Commie.

“I haven’t done anything to him that he didn’t want me to. If that’s.. what you’re worried about.”

Commie leant back and sighed.

“I know.”

He rubbed his eyes with one hand, resting the other on his thigh. He knew the Nazi wasn’t a bad person. Nazi cared for people. Nazi wouldn’t hurt Ancom, no matter how much spite he might hold- Ancom was ethnically white after all. It was honestly more likely that Ancom would hurt Nazi.

When Commie opened his eyes and the blur faded, he could see Nazi still standing awkwardly in front of the door, holding the plate with both hands. Adorable. This daisy was supposedly somehow dominating Ancom?

“I’ll take your chocolate cake.”

This summoned an excited smile on Nazi’s face. He approached Commie, eyes sparking. 

“It’s a traditional Austrian cake called Sachertorte. It originated in Vienna in the-“

“I don’t care.” Commie stopped him as he took the plate and placed it on his desk. When he looked back up, Nazi was wearing a hurt expression.

“Do you get pleasure out of bringing him pain?” Commie inquired.

Nazi’s faced flared red. He looked down at his hands. He didn’t answer. Commie had had enough of this man’s silence.

“Answer me,” he boomed.

“It’s more the power and, um, control that I like.”

Commie could understand that. But what he couldn’t understand was how Nazi could possible assert power and control over anyone. He looked up- he didn’t like having the wimpy wannabe standing over him like that.

“Sit down,” Commie commanded.

Nazi looked around sheepishly.

“Where?”

“On the floor, of course. Get on your knees.”

“Um. Okay.”

Nazi obeyed, kneeling down by Commie’s side. Again, the thought of Nazi dominating anyone caused him to chuckle.

“You’re so degenerate, Nazi,” Commie teased, “for someone so obsessed with cultural purity you sure are diluted yourself. I kept thinking Ancom was the hypocrite, but you’re even more so. Shamelessly going against everything you stand for, engaging in the exact thing you so despise, because it turns you on.”

Commie saw Nazi shuffle his legs uncomfortably. Nazi was silently looking down elsewhere. Commie spun around on his chair and stomped one leg on either side of Nazi. He placed his hand under Nazi’s chin and pulled his face up, so that they were looking at each other. Nazi was wearing an expression Commie was vaguely familiar with… He had seen this face before. On Ancap.

“Oh, my. Nazi. You really _are_ degenerate.”

“I am not.” Nazi tried, but his voice shook. His face was the colour of the communist manifesto.

“You speak of authority, strength, and masculinity, but here you are, on your knees, in an apron, covered in flour, bright red in my palm.”

“I was making cake. I brought you a slice to make up,” Nazi demurred lightly.

Commie noticed something on the side of Nazi’s face. He turned Nazi’s head so he could get a better look at it and Nazi let out a soft noise. How amusing.

“I can think of a better way to make up. If you’d like.”

He had no intentions of making up. He wanted to humiliate the nazi. Nazi infuriated him. He wanted to make Nazi suffer. Not physically, but emotionally. The shame and the embarrassment of the things his own libido would lead him to.

“What… is that…” Nazi quavered, looking away shyly.

“You look so humble and submissive”

Nazi didn’t say anything, just kept looking away dishonourably, as if he could hide the lustful expression on his face.

“Would you like to be submit to me?”

Yet more of that fucking silence.

“Answer me.” Commie demanded.

“Yes, da-“ Nazi’s alerted voice answered before cutting itself off. His eyes were wide- he seemed surprised at his own answer. Commie was about to burst with amusement. What was Nazi about to say? He couldn’t stop smiling at this hilarity.

“Finish your thought.”

Nazi swallowed.

“Yes… daddy.” Nazi grabbed at this apron timidly.

Commie couldn’t hold back his chuckle.

“That’s new. Not surprising, though.”

“You like following orders right?”

Nazi nodded.

“Say it.”

“I love following orders.”

Commie waited.

“Daddy.”

“And you’re going to follow my orders?”

“Yes, daddy,” Nazi moaned. Commie observed the batter on the side of Nazi’s cheek. He wiped it with his thumb then shoved it into Nazi’s mouth for him to clean up.

“Good boy.”

——————————————————

Nazi felt guilty. He was sitting at the living room table idly watching Ancom spray paint the walls of the living room with anarchy symbols and ACAB and all that other kind of garbage. Ancap had started charging rent from the other extremists so Ancom had decided to rebel while the capitalist was out of the house. All of the fumes coming from his canisters were probably not the best for them to be breathing in in a contained room, but Nazi couldn’t get the motivation to care.

He’d… had a better time with Commie yesterday than he cared to admit. He’d prefer not to ponder on it. But it was hard to forget. As much as he had enjoyed being… commanded around by a male authoritative figure, he enjoyed the fact that Commie had now witnessed him so pathetic and vulnerable considerably less. Though in the moment that was part of the pleasure.

Watching the anarchist create his shitty wall drawings and caused him to think about how he’d betrayed- wait, hold on. Had Nazi… betrayed Ancom? Ancom and he had had a… particularly peculiar relationship as of late. But it was no _relationship_ … was it? Then why did he feel so guilty when he looked at the small rebel proudly admiring his wall scribbles? Why did he feel like he had stepped on a kitten’s tail? After how hurt Ancom had seemed that time he’d left him alone in his room, Nazi feared that Ancom would be heartbroken if he found out what had happened.

Or maybe he was just projecting. Surely. Surely, Ancom did not have any _such_ feelings for Nazi, that would be ridiculous. Nazi had seduced him into his control, satisfying his need for power, and there was nothing else to it. Wait. Not projecting. That would be ridiculous. Nazi did _not_ possess any such feelings for Ancom, and Ancom did _not_ reciprocate. All that garbage Ancom had muttered while three universes over in his room the other day was… high ramblings. And the feelings that had come over him… he had been tired and confused.

He felt nauseous. It must have been the fumes. He stood up and marched to the windows. He opened them with more fervour than he expected, and the windows slammed against the frames. When he turned around he saw Ancom staring at him with fearsome worry.

“Are you okay, Nazi?” He asked, concerned. His voice, though high-pitched and annoying, was sweet and caring.

Nazi couldn’t help but sigh. He walked up to Ancom, moved his face mask down with one hand, and grabbed his chin between the finger and thumb of the other. Ancom let out a soft noise and looked up at him with eyes of affectionate anticipation. Dear god. Was this what he had looked like yesterday? All domesticated and obedient?

When Ancom did it, though, he looked small and sympathetic. A kitten he wanted to protect. He never wanted to hurt. Lord, these were weak and inferior feelings he was having, but as much as bringing physical pain to the kid brought him joy, he never wanted to give him emotional turmoil. Nazi moved his hand to cup Ancom’s cheek.

“Oh, kitty.”

Ancom purred into his palm.

“I’m so sorry.”


	7. Capitalist Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Capitalist throws a tantrum over the Communist.

Ancap sat in the living room cutting up his new order of coke and sorting them into little baggies. The temptation to indulge was strong but a good salesman never took from his own supply.

Ancom walked into the living room and Ancap threw up a look. Ancom drooped with a lost puppy look on his face, staring defeatedly into the distance.

“You all good?” Ancap asked, hoping Ancom was actually okay or just bothered about some twitter drama he’d gotten into. He wasn’t particularly interested in hearing Ancom go on about his woes, as much as he cared for his friend.

“Mind if I join you on the couch?” Ancom asked, absently. Ancap nicked his head to the free space on the couch next to him.

“Go for it.”

“Thanks.”

Ancom sat down next to Ancap. He stared forward distantly.

“What’s, um, what’s up?” Ancap inquired, cursing himself for probably unleashing the waterworks.

“Nazi and Tankie fucked.”

….

Ancap dropped the American Express card he was holding into the lines below him and powder flew everywhere.

What?

“What?”

“Um. Yeah. Apparently. Nazi and Tankie fucked.”

“You were fucking Nazi.”

“Yes. Yes I was.”

“Are you not fucking him anymore?”

“I don’t know.”

“Was it love?”

…

“I don’t know.”

Ancom was being uncharacteristically open and Ancap uncharacteristically inquisitive, but given the situation he couldn’t blame either of them. He ignored the churning in his stomach at the thought of Commie doing to Nazi what he foolishly had thought was only reserved to him.

“Want some cheer up coke?” Ancap asked Ancom.

“I don’t have any money, Ancap, but thanks for the offer.”

Ancap stared at the oasis of dopamine below him. He was itching for it’s Guaranteed Happiness. Foolish. Foolish former feelings fed foolish future free-handedness.

“It’s on the house.”

That hurt his soul to say. Ancom was looking at him like his nose had fallen off.

“Are you okay, Ancap?”

He started lifting a hand up to Ancap’s face, but Ancap dodged.

“Do you have a fever? Should I-“

Ancap swatted the hand away.

“I’m fine. But, I have to try this batch. A good salesman always tests his samples. And I don’t want to do it alone. Plus, like, despite your straw-manned sociopath stereotype of me, I’m not apathetic. You’re my friend and I want to make you feel better.”

Ancap wasn’t sure how sure how sincere that last statement was. Mostly he was just dying to get buried in that blissful winter wonderland staring at him seductively.

“Come on, do some lines with me.”

Ancom eyed him suspiciously.

“You know you want to, ancom.”

“Alright,” Ancom replied hesitantly as Ancap eagerly picked up the card, dusted it off, and started setting up lines.

He looked up at ancom, “d’you have a buck?”

Ancom gave him a weird look.

“No… like I said, I don’t have any money.”

Ancap sighs, “alright,” and reaches into his own pocket to pull out a bill. $50 bucks. Yeah he could snort through that. He handed the rolled up bill to Ancom to throws Ancap another curious look before diving in.

Ancap took his turn and leant back. He closed his eyes and waited for it to hit. Soon he felt his heart beat faster in his throat and a confident excitement rush through his veins. He opened his eyes and sat up. His hands moved comfortably to his lap. He was happy to be alive.

He looked to his left at a solemn ancom playing at his pants.

“Ancom,” his voice, comfortable in his throat. The deep bouncy vibrations on his vocal chords comforting.

Ancom looked up, and his expression changed to one of mockery.

“Ancap. Did it already hit you?” He laughed. He _mocked_. Ancom. The Anarkid, as Commie called him. Commie. Commie. Commie. What was he doing? Getting all upset because some fucking _communist_ didn’t want to use him a stress ball. This was all wrong. Ancap had lost himself.He was a _king._ Nothing like a good dose of coke to clear his head, get him back on track, reset himself.

Next to him the pathetic twink excuse of a “rebel” was still laughing. Now _that_ was a druggie. Ancap did drugs as a treat, sophisticatedly, responsibly. Ancom was just addicted. Ancap could easily overpower him. He should overpower him. All his pathetic self-loathing longing for Commie’s abuse left him as he felt all his old his regular confidence flow back through him again.

Faster than he could register it himself, he flung one leg around Ancom and got on top of him, so Ancap was sitting on his lap, facing him, with one hand on either side of his face. Ancom looked up with an expression. What did Ancap read in that expression? Curiosity? Shock? Sadness? Excitement? Lust? Longing? Loss?

He slowly inched his face closer to Ancom’s, making sure to be wary of any pulling away Ancom might do. But he didn’t. He met him halfway. And soon the two libertarians were making out with each other passionately, fuelled by the pain and anger their respective authoritarian had left them with. Ancap started moving, grinding down into Ancom.

Ancom moaned into Ancap’s mouth.

“What a little bottom bitch you are, Ancom,” Ancap commented.

“Fuck y-,” Ancom tried to retaliate with a smug smile, but Ancap bit down on his bottom lip before he could finished, earning him another pleasured moan.

That’s right. This was where Ancap belonged. On top. Then Ancom started making more noise. Pleasure but also… pain… no… hurt. Hurt. Emotional hurt. By Nazi. A flash of fury fled through Ancap. Here he was, being gifted heaven at the hands of Ancap, and the fucker could only think about Nazi. He loved him. He _loved_ him.

Ancap pulled back and grabbed Ancom’s cheeks in one hand. Ancom looked up at him with wide eyes.

“You love Nazi don’t you?”

“I don’t kn-“

Ancap violently pulled Ancom’s face up and went back in to bite his bottom lip again, a little harder this time.

A soft, “ah”, escaped Ancom.

Ancap pulled away, looking down at him from a few inches away.

“You love him don’t you?” he said more aggressively than he expected.

Ancom just looked at him in… fear. Confusion. Hurt. 

Ancap squeezed a little harder.

“Answer me,” he yelled a little louder.

“Yes,” Ancom whined. Ancap squeezed harder.

“Say it.”

“Ow, Ancap, this hurts-“

“Say it!”

“Stop,” Ancom started tearing up. Ancap felt powerful.

“Say it, you bitch.”

“I love him. I love him.”

“Who?!"

“Nazi, I-,” he was sobbing beneath Ancap, “I love Nazi.”

“Disgusting for an antifas-,“ Ancap started, but was interrupted when the two statists came back home, discovering the scene in the living room. Ancap saw how their faces turned to anger and shock as they registered what was happening. Or at least, what the thought was happening. A crying Ancom under a dominating Ancap.

“Get off Ancom, Ancap,” Commie boomed sending fear and arousal into Ancap’s pulse.

“Wait, guys, this isn’t what it looks like,” he defended as they ran towards the couch. Commie ripped Ancap off of Ancom and practically flung him against the wall, where he held him, loathing and spite shooting at Ancap from his eyes. His precious Ancom was on the couch, crying into Nazi’s arms.

“I honestly don’t know what I expected from you, Ancap. I knew about your commodification of consent and your child brides, I don’t know _why_ I thought it would be safe to have you in a house with hi-, us.”

He wanted to say him. He wanted to say Ancom. The man was obsessed with Ancom. Well. Not for now. Right now his attention was on Ancap. Ancap had won Commie’s attention again. Behind him he could see Nazi carry Ancom into the hallway.

“That’s not what I was-“

Commie spat in his face to shut him up and Ancap felt alive. The excitement of Commie’s wrath was more addictive than the coke on the table.


	8. HAHAHAHAHA the FEMINIST has fallen in love with THE RACIST SEXIST JERK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ancom analyses his feelings. And they're not healthy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: BRIEF ONE SENTENCE MENTION OF SEXUAL ABUSE

Nazi and Ancom were in the kitchen. Ancom was coming down. He could hear Ancap and Commie yelling at each other from Commie’s room. Nazi patiently drained the boiled potatoes, as though he could hear nothing. Much like Ancom’s mother used to do. A blatantly obvious yet deceivingly powerful denial of current circumstances.

Nazi plopped some tomatoes and a chopping board in front of Ancom on the counter, where Ancom had been sitting silently. Nazi smelt good. Ancom idly watched Nazi’s short blonde waves bounce as he moved around the kitchen. His pretty blue eyes looked up into Ancom’s with concern.

“You good to handle a knife?” He asked. 

“Yeah.” Ancom answered. And he was handed the knife.

Nazi turned around to start cutting up the potatoes, and Ancom stared down at the tomatoes. What- Where- How- He didn’t know where or how to start. How does one cut up tomatoes? He’d never cooked much, and anything beyond the basic recipes everyone knows how to make was far beyond his capabilities.

And so he began his attempt. He just picked one up and shoved a knife through it. And he did it! He sliced the tomato! And his hand! Oh fuck.

“Ow!”

Nazi instantly spun around and his worried eyes darted down at Ancom’s hand.

“Oh my-“ His eyes carried on down to the mushed split tomato and his worry faded away for a look of questioning. 

“Ancom, what the hell. Do you not know how to cook?” He interrogated as he picked out the first aid kit from the cabinet above the stove.

“No, not really.”

Nazi turned back to Ancom and snarled, opening the box and preparing a bandaid.

“You can’t cook? You’re an adult grown ma-,” Nazi’s eyes left his busied hands to meet Ancom’s for a split moment before darting back down, “person, and you don’t even know how to cut fucking tomatoes?”

Nazi had gendered him correctly. This had never happened before. And despite it being buried in berating, and being particular only due to a history of intentional misgendering, it made Ancom’s insides dance with joy. Suddenly the mean man caring for him was the kindest man to ever live. This spawn of satan, supporter of suffering, was purer and gooder than god’s favourite angel, for this small act of common decency. When you’re in love with a man for whom you have the lowest expectations, you adjust the bar accordingly to justify your adoration.

“Seriously,” Nazi’s aggressive anger accused as he bandaged Ancom’s hand, “you want a commune where everyone does their part and you aren’t even capable of _the_ most basic household tasks? This is what’s wrong with all you lazy leftists and apathetic anarchists. When you say you want a cooperative collective society what you really mean is you want to sit around while others do the work for you. Which is why you argue against the blueprints of an actually productive society so much. _From each according to his ability, to each according to his need_ , but as soon as I point out that blacks are simply less-, uh, _differently_ abled and men and women have different roles based on their differing skillsets, it’s all 'bigot' and 'racist' and 'backwards thinking'.”

Nazi’s awful and obtuse words sliced through Ancom and everything he held important with the harshest hatred. But his hands were dancing around Ancom’s so tenderly as he tended to the cut. And so the verbal abuse seemed soft and kind. And so Ancom discovered a new form of masochism. The emotional degradation, the belittling, it made him so small. Ancom became so small around Nazi. Nazi absolutely towered over him. And Ancom loved it.

A part of him recognised this was wrong. He was a strong rebellious fighter that took shit from absolutely nobody and struck fear into the hearts of bigots. He was so much better than this man who he let push him around. But then he saw the skin peaking out of the low buttoned shirt and he was okay with being pushed around and reduced to the bug Nazi saw him as. Nazi’s hands felt so warm on his own. Ancom could feel the kind but pained soul buried beneath the tyranny surely led by trauma. 

What was it? What terrible childhood did he experience to become this way? Ancom wanted to know. He wanted to know so bad. He longed to love Nazi until he opened up and told him about his harms. He was okay with enduring abuse and use and humiliation to get there. He was determined to make it through. Get into him. Unveil the suffering and unravel the behaviour. His mind wandered, exploring the possibilities. Nazi had an abusive father who forced him into a role so harshly he had to internalise it to survive mentally. Nazi had been sexually abused and now had to exert superiority and power over everyone to feel safe and dignified.

Whatever it was, he knew that if only he knew he reason behind it, he could excuse the vile hatred. That’s why he had to endure Nazi’s vitriol and fight through the fog, breakdown his borders, fathom his feelings. He needed in, bruised black and blue if need be.


End file.
